Some are squeaky, some are black,
Most my poor toes do attack.
All of them I lump together
As a vicious use of leather.
Round my feet they firmly coil,
Bringing them to smelly boil.
Spending money on a pair
Is tantamount to germ warfare.
Some day off my feet I'll rip
Penny loafer and wingtip.
Then I'll skip across the grass
'til I find some broken glass.
I am always one to shirk
Anything that takes teamwork.
Toiling as a group suits me
Like a dose of rank TB.
When committees start to function
It is time for extreme unction.
Team players are mindless drones,
Speaking in their monotones;
Corporate zombies that explain
Why this country's down the drain.
Had he worked with a commune.
The earth shall belong to the meek;
Of this we oft hear preachers speak.
What I want to know
Is why it's so slow;
I needed my portion last week.
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